Poison and Honey
by Big Bad Wolfy
Summary: After arguing with Yamcha, Bulma drowns her anger in wine out on what she thinks is an unoccupied balcony. Vegeta is unprepared to have his peace and quiet interrupted. Consider this a short, one-shot that takes place during "The 3 years." Teaser story. Please read the AN. Rated M for language and sexual content.


_**AN: This is not the full story.** The full version is rated MA or NC-17. I have had this account for a very long time and I don't want to get suspended. The complete fic can be found at Archive of Our Own. I'm Bigbad_wolfy over there as well; I like to keep thing simple. DO NOT proceed to the AO3 version if you do not want to read EXPLICIT sexual content. DO NOT proceed if you are a minor! Consider yourself warned. Any-who, this is my first submission in 12 yrs. Hope you like it. Many Thanks to Sasusc for Beta-ing!_

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"I have had it with him!" Bulma shouted as she stomped over the threshold of the sliding glass door and out onto the dim patio. "No more! This is the last time!" She clamored, her bare feet slapping against the cool concrete, a half-filled wine glass in one clenched fist and a green wine bottle sloshing in the other. "I swear!" _Stomp._ "By Kami!" _Stomp, stomp, Slosh._ "I am _not_ taking him back!" She swung out her left arm and set down the wine bottle a little too hard. The patio table rattled in protest. "This is the end!" She yelled out to the night sky and guzzled the last swallows of wine from her glass without grace.

Bulma dropped her petite frame into a rigid lounge chair, making its feet scrape against the concrete in a high pitched squawk. Vegeta flinched at the sound. He sat, perched upon a low concrete bench, shrouded in the darkness, and out of the pale yellow light drifting out from kitchen and past the sitting room.

Bulma dipped her head low, her eyes squeezed shut. A low growl hummed from her drawn lips and gritted teeth as she replayed the earlier events with Yamcha in her mind for the umpteenth time that evening. Her growl built in angered intensity and volume until it crescendo into a frustrated, fed up primal scream. She slammed her fist onto the table. The wine bottle rocked on its base and then fell over. It would have fallen and crashed to the floor had Vegeta not rushed in with inhuman speed and caught it just before it hit the concrete. He set the bottle upright on the table in front of Bulma, whose blue eyes were now wide with alarm.

"For fuck's sake, Woman, would it kill you to allow me just a sliver of quiet solitude?"

"Vegeta!" Bulma gasped. His sudden appearance sent her heart racing. However, she hastily recovered and channeled her fright into anger, "What the hell are you doing lurking around here in the dark like some kind of boogeyman?"

"This balcony was unoccupied when I came out here." Vegeta scoffed, affronted, "I wasn't _lurking_ , as you so inelegantly put it."

He was shirtless and clad in his usual black training shorts, Bulma noticed. He smelled clean and freshly showered. Vegeta's present state of dress did nothing to help calm her run away heart rate. The low light of the moon and distant kitchen light veiled him in shadows, giving him the look of a predator. His lithe, powerful yet compact build lent an air of danger, or sex appeal, or both.

Her brain seemed to cease functioning. _What did he say? He wasn't lurking? Oh. Witty response, witty response_ , her alcohol fogged mind frantically repeated.

After a long awkward silence, on Bulma's part, Vegeta raised an eyebrow at her lack of retort. He gave an imperceptible dismissive snort, then turned and walked away. He intended to head back to his room to get a few hours of sleep before he hit the gravity room again at sunrise.

Bulma's brain finally seemed to re-engage as he moved to leave. She suddenly didn't feel like spending the evening alone with a mostly full wine bottle. Her angered outrage was cooling off as fast as hot glass in a freezer. Since she wasn't truly in the mood to be alone and wasn't the wallow-in-self-pity-all-by-her-lonesome type, she needed to do something before she splintered into pathetic dejection.

"Hey, Vegeta, wait. You don't have to go. You were here first. Please, stay. I won't say another word, I promise." She offered, as her puckered brow relaxed.

Vegeta tilted his head to the side, his scowl softened just a micrometer, and he half smiled, not a smirk, but a true, honestly amused half smile. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, Woman." The sound of his voice tickled her ears and teased her skin, giving rise to promises of a more sensual kind in the back of her sloshed mind. She wasn't sure if he knew the effect it had on her, wasn't sure if he was doing it on purpose.

"I can too keep quiet if I wanted!" Her already wine flushed cheeks darkened as she pushed her bottom lip out into a petulant pout. She bit back her annoyance and swallowed the insult lined up; she wasn't going to let him push her buttons like that tonight. "Tonight I propose a truce, a ceasefire, if you will. You look like you could use friend; you're always out here brooding all by yourself." It was true. She had noticed that sometimes, after he spent long hours beating himself half to death each day, he would shower and then sit here, glowering up at the stars for an hour or more. Bulma would catch glimpses of him every other night. It struck her, how lonely he often looked.

"I came out here to get away from you annoying humans." Vegeta divulged, as his frown returned. He could have then turned to leave, and choose completely ignore anything else she might say but, damn, she held his attention, like she held that wine glass. The dim light veiled the movement of his gaze as it licked down her figure, lapping up her every curve. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her satiny lilac night dress. It wasn't shorter than any other dress she wore but the way it floated on her pale thighs was pleasing and it bunched and pulled in all the right places. The cool, late summer chill did nothing to calm the flush on her cheeks but shamelessly contributed to the points of her nipples jutting out from beneath the thin fabric.

He always found himself being drawn to her. It was as if she ignited something in him. It flickered to life when she was around and he found himself watching her, admiring not just her looks but her cunning when it came to all things mechanical. That flame especially roared with vigor when she dared to engage him verbally and incite him to fire off in retaliation against her intentionally provoking rhetoric. He was damned sure she did it on purpose. Why else would her eyes blaze with blue-hot passion when they argued? She enjoyed it, even when she lost and especially when she won.

She moved to grab the bottle from the table. Not wanting to lose hold of her pleasurable buzz, she refilled her glass. Her dress whispered across her backside and hitched up just enough to reveal the bottom swell of her buttocks, encouraging carnal thoughts within Vegeta's mind. She sipped her drink, leaning in slightly and pursing her soft, pink lips as if to kiss the sweet, red port as it rose from the glass to meet her. Her lashes fluttered, lids half-closing, but she kept eye contact with Vegeta.

"Mmmm," She moaned, as she imbibed. Gods, the sound went straight to his groin. Vegeta's lips parted, his tongue edged out a bit to lick his lips. Was it possible to be jealous of a drinking vessel? She polished off the remaining nectar, "Mmm, wine is proof Kami wants women to be happy," she sighed.

Vegeta swallowed, and let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. Wasn't he on his way back to his room? In an attempt to recover he "hmphed" and motioned to turn, intending to leave, again, but stopped when she reached out, already refilled glass in hand.

"Here, try some." She offered, her blue eyes shining in the moonlight.

His eyes dashed up to meet hers. Her pupils were wide and dark. While the wine she drank pitched her further into drunkenness, it was her scent that he increasingly found intoxicating. She was a mix of sweet fruit, spicy alcohol and a heady, musky scent that was all her own. It was over taking him fast. He was already attracted to her soft, feminine build, and he found he could admit that and move to more important things, but normally he tried to keep his distance from her. Tonight on the other hand, so many factors worked against him. He had come to the balcony to contemplate his stagnant training away from the rest of the Briefs household, away from the eccentric professor, that silly blond mother and especially this alluring, aggravating woman.

"Come on, you've got to taste this. You'll love it," She pleaded, pushing the glass toward his chest. He reached down to grab it, just to keep her from spilling it all over him. His slightly larger hand enveloped around hers, his touch was warm, firm and skin slightly rough. Something like an electric jolt tingled up the length of her arm and straight down to the juncture of her thighs.

Their gazes locked. He regarded her with hard eyes, searching for any cue that might betray her hidden motive, but there was none. She was just an inebriated trollop. He leaned in closer while bringing the glass to his lips, never breaking eye contact with Bulma, and sipped the wine. She leaned in, unknowingly. When Vegeta's keen Saiyan nose homed in on the sudden change in her scent he knew this impromptu late night conversation was taking a turn for things less wholesome than the offer of friendship.

"This drink," He said, after pulling the glass away from his lips, but not yet releasing her hand, "is fitting of you." His voice was warm and velvety, like dark chocolate.

"How so?" She breathed.

"It is cloyingly sweet but one cannot miss the acerbic poison behind the honey." He sipped again; half-lidded coal black not breaking away from entranced sapphire blue.

Bulma's cheeks flushed deeper red as the heat emanating from her feminine core overtook her entire body, setting her senses aflame. Too astonished to give thought to being called acerbic, Bulma's drunken mind fixated on his back handed compliment. Did he just call her sweet and liken her to honey? With their lips already so near, she felt herself being pulled in closer still, being drawn in by this dark, surly Saiyan. Oh Kami, she wanted to kiss him! Was this the wine influencing her thoughts? Still blushing fiercely and prodded on by liquid courage she asked, "Vegeta? Do you know what a kiss is?"

The Saiyan's brows lifted, slightly, in confusion. "Is it a food? A drink? Is that what this intoxicant is called?" He asked, completely serious.

Bulma tried hard to suppress a guffaw of laughter at his almost Goku-like reaction. She kept her amusement in check and let out a stifled giggle instead.

"No- no." She giggled and pulled back from him, he let go of her hand and she turn away tittering. Vegeta crossed his arms, confused and unamused by her laughing at his ignorance of Earthling alcohol.

Bulma tried to regain control; she took another sip of wine and busied herself with topping off the mostly full glass. _I can't believe he doesn't know what a kiss is_ , she thought, _Well, I suppose I could teach him._

She turned back to Vegeta, her mischievous eyes dancing.

"Well, a kiss is," she began, placing a finger on her cheek. Her eyes darted a quick look at Vegeta and took in his closed off demeanor. Damn, she was losing him.

"A kiss is something you do with someone you like."

Vegeta, looked away from her and rolled his eyes. Foolish woman, he knew _what_ a damned kiss was, however he thought perhaps it could have also been a name for a drink, like the word had a double meaning. Caught up in all of his inward grumbling he did not see Bulma's free hand reaching out to him. At the last moment, he turned when he heard her say, "a kiss is-"

She cupped his chin, leaned in and kissed him.

He was stunned stupid; frozen. He could not get his brain to function enough to push her away. Her lips were so soft and warm and sweet with wine. He felt his loins stir to life. And then it ended all too soon. She pulled back.

While being far from inexperienced in carnal matters, he was no romantic. Who wants to kiss a whore anyway? Their existence was to simply to be a vessel for relieving pent up sexual need in its basest form. Kissing was what lovers did. So essentially Vegeta had never done such a thing; he didn't have a need for it. Fuck a whore 'til he came, yes; but intimately touch lips with another being no.

He gaped at her, his eyes wide, mouth slack. He uncrossed his arms, stood up straight, and tried to gather his thoughts.

Bulma took another swig of wine, a satisfied, smug smile upon her pretty pink lips.

This _kiss_ , this concept was not entirely unpleasant. It felt pretty damned good to be honest. As much as his instinctual need told him to just turn her ass up like a whore and fuck her until he was done he couldn't bring himself to do it. This damned ill-mannered, crazy and intriguing woman drove him insane. As vulgar as whore at times, but smart perhaps smarter than any of Freeza's scientist and sometimes brave, although often to the point of stupidity. _Oh just fuck this!_ Fuck this stupid mud ball planet and this stupid need digging at him. Could he survive another year or two of this madness? He just wanted to train, kill Kakarot and destroy earth and go back to space, where shit made sense.

The sound of a distant door opening and the twinge of a familiar ki, _the beta male_ , pulled Vegeta out of his mental conundrum. The scarred human had returned from wherever he had gone earlier. Vegeta sneered. That fool probably smelled of other women again. Vegeta steeled himself against the woman's strange pull on him, finally building up the gumption to fully turn away from her and stalked back inside.

Bulma sipped as she watched the Saiyan disappear past the threshold of the sliding glass door and then past the archway that lead to bedrooms. While she might have liked to have company to keep her from sulking alone, she had to admit, she didn't mind watching him leave.

"I guess my womanly charms were just too much for you, my dear Prince."

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Neither Bulma nor Vegeta could get the other out of their thoughts for the remainder of the night. Bulma spent the next hour sipping another 2 glasses of wine as she mulled over the mysterious dark Saiyan. By the time Yamcha worked up enough resolve to confront her she was passed out in the lawn chair. He ended up carrying her back to her room only to be thanked with another verbal ass-chewing in the morning.

Vegeta lay awake, staring at the ceiling in his barren room. His mind's eye tried to recreate that perfectly tempting way Bulma's night dress draped over her breasts, with the perky buds of her nipples protruding out, begging to be touched. The taste of her wine sweet lips burned in his memory and her intoxicating scent teased him, making him high with desire, making him want another nip of her. _Fuck!_ He rolled over in frustration, erection straining at his pajama bottoms. He wasn't going to get much sleep tonight was he?

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 _ **AN: Important info here!** The full version is rated MA or NC-17. I have had this account for a very long time and I don't want to get suspended. The complete fic can be found at Archive of Our Own. I'm Bigbad_wolfy over there as well; I like to keep thing simple. DO NOT proceed to the AO3 version if you do not want to read EXPLICIT sexual content. DO NOT proceed if you are a minor! Consider yourself warned._

 _Thx for reading, please do leave a review._


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